Here I lay
by 898700
Summary: We know they all would give their live for those they love. And maybe something else. WARNING: Deathfic.


**Title: **Here I lay

**Author:** Jerico Cacaw

**Warnings:** Deathfic. Stay away if you can't stand characters dying.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the TMNT.

**Summary:** We know they all would give their live for those they love. And maybe something else.

---

"Come on!" I growl, trying to turn on the engine. It does not work, as it didn't the past ten times I tried. My nose is frozen, my hands are hurting, and I hate this damn thin sweater with a passion. For my own sake, my mouth should remain closed, but being trapped on a non cooperating car at the other side of the city is not helping. Therefore, the words I deliver are the wrong ones. "This is your fucking fault."

Lilly remains quiet, looking thru her window, but I can see the tear she does not contains. Christ, I'm such a dork. I sight and my anger fades.

"Sorry, dear," I apologize, "but I'm truly worried. This is the last place where we should be right now."

That's nothing but the truth. Our car decided to die in one of the most dangerous zone of New York City. Lights on the buildings are very scarce, and no bystanders can be seen. Not that I mind that last bit, as any person from this place is a not welcomed one.

"I know," she declares, yet she does not say I am forgiven. "What do we do now?"

See? That's on one of the things that make me love her so much. Unlike other people I've meet, she is never waiting for somebody else to come in her aid. The only reason behind her crying is the emotional turmoil the hormones are subjecting her to; our child is what prevents her from kicking me out, to the snow.

"I'll try to fix it." It's the only answer I can give.

Getting out of the car in the middle of nowhere on this particular December night is not something I want to do; but it is not likely for a taxi cab to show up, not after the snow storm of earlier. Wise, normal people, is currently tucked in their beds, watching TV and drinking hot cocoa. I'm not saying my wife is insane, just because she insisted on visiting her grandmother tonight. No, _I_ am the insane one, 'cause I said yes. The old woman is not waking up anymore, and it is not as if we are leaving her alone. There are specialists on the hospital, doctors and nurses, and to take care of her is their job.

But I couldn't say no to Lilly, as her grandmother's demise will left us as the last members from both our families. It is a shame the woman will not live enough to meet our son; doctors are not giving her more than 48 hours.

"Lets go then," she instructs while opening her door. In any other situation I would have insisted on her to stay inside, but right now is prudent for one of us to keep an eye on our surroundings. Five minutes later, as I reluctantly accepted that the engine is not going to magically resurrect, we discovered that our strategy was a good one.

"James?"

Her voice is so full with fear and urgency that there's no mistake on what she has seen. We are into the car before I discover what she saw: a street gang, over thirty punks. Their shouts and laughs announce they are high, wasted and confident. The dimly light allows me to discover the objects they are sporting as weapons.

"Lay down," I whisper, following my own advice. Maybe if they don't see us …

"Hey, Big D, man!" a voice slurred. It sounded damn too close.

"Whassit," somebody questioned, "an early Christmas present?"

The car, they have seen the car, and they are getting closer.

"Ya, 'cause you're such a good boy!" a female says out loud, and they all laugh.

"There's someone in there." It is a very young voice, and I'm surprised to find a teenager looking at me. He does not look as a punk, at least his clothes do not, but the scar on his cheek and the cold stare he's giving us does nothing to ease my fears.

"Well, well, well; what do we have here?" They don't have to tell me this is the one called Big D. The man, obviously the gang leader, is looking very pleased. Slowly, I sit back, never looking him directly at the eye. I know what my next move would be; there's only one thing a person like me can do in a situation like this.

"Take it," I offer, getting out of the car and motioning my wife to do the same. The teenager jumps in immediately, and the strangled noise from the engine tells him what I already know. From his look I'm sure he's going to blame me for this.

"I- I don't know what's wrong with it," I try to explain. "But it is yours now. We- we must leave."

Okay, there's no way they are going to let us free as easy as that, but I had to try. Lilly is now by my side, and the gang members are surrounding us. From all what I know, they might be waiting for their leader's order to attack.

"Your values," he orders, but I just hand them our money and jewelry. My wife and kid are my highest treasures, but I'm not gonna give them so easily.

"Nice coat," a young woman compliments, looking at Lilly. Both coat and my sweater go to them.

And here we are, in the middle of a winter's night, with snow everywhere and chilly gusts of wind making fun of us. I know that's not the reason why we are both trembling; at least not the only one. I'll have to find a warm place for Lilly, but right now that's not my biggest concern. We have to get out of here first.

Then everything went way down to Hell.

"Yours."

One word and our fate was sealed. Before my brain recognizes what have been said, they are over me. Two of them received my kicks and punches but that's all I can do. I hear my wife's angry yells; she's brave, oh God, how brave she is.

"What the-"

The punk's swearing told me they've been surprised. All of a sudden I found they've leaved me alone, with Lilly hugging me. And I realized I have to be hallucinating, because those criminal are being beaten up by … beings. I don't know what they are, but they are definitely not human. We are being left out of the fight, but those freaks' intention might be to get us after they've finished with the punks.

"We have to go," Lilly says on my ear, and I'm sure she has arrived to the same conclusion. With her help I stand up, even if it pains me a lot.

BANG.

I can feel the ground pulling my body down. Then there is not weight at all. I'm a couple feet behind Lilly, sure that this night have turned me completely mad, as I can see her sobbing and cradling my body.

I am dead.

I'm utterly shocked, unable to move. I want to run to her side, but something tells me that will not be allowed. Then I turn to the fight, remembering what I've always labeled as an urban legend.

Those freaks, how does the news call them? Mutant frogs? But I can see they are not frogs … turtles, perhaps? And, even if they certainly know how to fight, they've not done irreparable damage to our attackers. Well, the red one is not being nice at all, but at least those jerks are not being killed. Not that they've showed the same consideration towards me.

"I'm sorry. He's dead."

I look at Lilly's again, and there's one of those freaks by her side, the one in purple. He's closing my eyes, and really appears to believe what he said. He's sorry, when all those humans gave a damn for my life. Then, with an eerie feeling, I turn around to find a young man. He is bleeding, but does not seem to have learned anything tonight. His eyes are those of a madman, and he has a gun.

As I scream a name she can't hear, a blur jumps in front of Lilly and the turtle.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The gunman's head hits a wall with a sickening crunch, but I know he's not death, even if the red turtle seems ready to kill him. But, as a hazy form starts to materialize in front of me, I know someone was not as lucky.

It is one of those freaks, with a blue cloth on his head and two swords on his hands. I look down at myself, just to find I'm still fully clothed. And there are not wounds on me. _Weird_.

"Leo, don't … you can't. Leo, please!" the one besides Lilly is begging, and I can almost feel the pain and sorrow radiating from him.

"Mikey!"

This time is the … spirit … at my side. I'm sure he is aware that they can't hear us, yet he is obviously shouting to one of his group. I turn to the direction he is facing and yes, there's a fourth turtle, running to the fallen one. And he is unaware of a hidden punk, ready to strike him.

"Mike, the hell!" the red one swears, kicking the attacker so hard he flies to the other side of the street. "I'm not loosing another brother this night, is that clear!"

_Brother?_

The last turtle, this one in orange, nods before joining him on the fight. I can see they both are crying, yet they are now completely dedicated to protect their other brother and my wife. And here I am, too coward to look back at her. I don't want to see her die. I don't want to see the blood pulsing out of the wound that one bullet left.

"Push, you have to push."

Then I remember. My baby. Lilly is dying and our son is being born; can't the universe stop messing up with us? Then there's a last cry from Lilly's part, and the spark on her eyes dies.

"No, no." It's the one in purple again. He covers our newborn baby with some clothes I don't know where he got from, before carefully putting him aside in order to help Lilly. _Poor guy, loosing three patients in a row_, I think, but there's a smile on my face when a new blurry form appears at my right.

Lilly.

"Donnie?" we both turn at the voice. The fight is over, and the turtle with the red cloth is alone, by his dead brother's body. The one in orange, Mikey, is looking at our son. "I think there's something wrong."

Oh, God.

"He's not breathing," and there's more than a tingle of apprehension on this statement. Another death he can't prevent? This has to affect his mental stability, yet I'm being selfish. I want my son to come with us.

Yes, I understand that will deny him his chance on the living world but, really, who wants to be in a place where people get killed the way we did? And, were he to survive, he will find himself alone, with no family whatsoever. I have nothing against adoption, but _we_ _are_ his parents, and we deeply care about him.

Surely, he joins us. He's a brilliant light that immediately floats to Lilly. It is … there are not words to describe what I feel when the three of us join in a hug.

And then there's a pull.

Whatever the purple one is doing, it is working. I am panicked, and so is Lilly. We don't want to let him go, but there's a force taking him from our side. We will not be able to fight it for long, and from first time since this started, I cry.

_This is not fair!_, I want to scream.

There is not really a physical sensation that could be called a _touch_, yet I can say that the turtle spirit is trying to get our attention. He looks at his brothers, then at ours baby's body, before turning to us again. There were not words, but his intentions are clear. I look at Lilly, and she nods. We both nod.

He caresses the light that is our baby's spirit, and then bows to the three of us. Once he disappears, the pull is not more trying to take our son from us. We are free.

And we leave.

**---**

"He's alive!" Don happily exclaims. Really, he does not have to tell us that, the baby's wail was enough of a clue. But I say nothing, knowing how hard this night has been to him; to all of us, but especially to him. I move the woman's body out of the street before returning for the man. Now there's just Leonardo.

"We have to leave," I inform to my remaining brothers. I shouldn't be the one saying this.

"We can't!" Don argues. "We have to wait until the police find the baby."

"I don't think they are coming soon, bro," Mikey says. He is looking to the sky, so we both turn our heads up. It's starting to snow again.

"There's another snow storm coming." And yeah, I know my geeky brother already realized that, yet I feel this has to be stated. "We are cold-blooded, Donatello. I don't want to turn into a turtle flavored popsicle."

"Can't we leave him, you know, in someone's door?" offers Mikey, referring to the bundle on our brother's arms.

"Sure, Mikey, where do you suggest? Jack the Ripper's department or Freddy Krueger's house?"

Sheesh, that was unexpected from Donnie. Although I have to admit, I wouldn't trust a baby's life to anyone living on this neighborhood.

"The baby comes with us; we'll turn him to the police later." It is my final word on the subject. "Don, take the katanas, too."

"I can take them," Mikey declared, but I know how much that will hurt him.

"No. I need you to be ready to protect us."

He accepts it. We all know I'll have my arms busy with Leonardo; that's a burden I'm not going to put on any of them. Soon there's nothing more to delay us. We bow in respect for the two strangers that died here tonight, people we couldn't save. I carry a death body, a beloved member of a now shattered family. Donnie carries a newborn baby, an orphan since the mere moment of his birth. There's nothing to keep us here, but we stay one more minute, in silence.

And then we leave.

---

**Author's note:** This came from a very dark place in my mind. Come on, I just killed three persons, including a baby and a pregnant woman! And if you want to know why I choose Leo (really, it could have been any of them), there's my answer: for some reason, this plot made me think of the way **Mickis** portrayed him on **Afterlife Inc**. I still don't know why.

And one more thing: I'm not writing more chapters, a prequel, a sequel or the same events from another POV; at least, not this year. I recognize the plot can be developed, but my other stories are claming for my attention. I can't start a new multi-chapter right now … or, well, I shouldn't. Therefore, the invitation is open. If you want to write something related to this story, go ahead. Now, I'm going to my bed. This story was written in a night, and some sleep is needed.


End file.
